


Me After You

by Johnlocked221b



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol to deal with grief, Angst, Dean Blames Himself, Dean Hates Himself, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean can feel Cas' grace and lack thereof in his soul, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean-Centric, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Needs A Hug, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Guilty Dean, Hurt, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pining, Post 12x23, Post-Canon, Profound Bond, Sad, Sam Needs A Hug, Self-Blame, Self-Hatred, This is me dealing with that finale, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, VERY slight suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlocked221b/pseuds/Johnlocked221b
Summary: Dean grieves Cas' loss in an unhealthy way. No surprise there. Set Post-12x23





	Me After You

After Cas died, Dean listened to his mix-tape on repeat. Really, the only time he didn’t have music in his ears was when he was rewinding the thing. He figured he could drown out the heart-ache that way, with loud music and booze and louder music and more booze. It was easier than dealing with it in the silence, where his mind could take off and remind him of how much of a _failure_ he was.

 

When they burned Cas’ vessel, (no, Cas’ _body_ ), on the pier behind the bunker, Dean stared, unblinking, into the flames consuming his best friend. Sam watched the shell of his older brother, full of worry. Dean hated himself for worrying Sam like that; leaving him to deal with the loss of a dear friend, (no, a _brother_ ), and the combined loss of their mother, just when they’d gotten her back, _alone_. Sammy didn’t deserve that. He’d lost Eileen too, just a few days ago and just when things were staring to get sweet between them. They’d suffered a lot of loss in the past few months, but _this_ was beyond anything Dean could comprehend.

 

He thought that maybe, after Ketch and the British Men of Letters, they would ice Lucifer once and for all, return home _together_ , and lay low for a while.

 

He thought there might be some chance that bastard of a Nephilim would revive Castiel for all the protection he’d given him or that Chuck might come back to save him from this grief.

 

Because Cas really deserved so much better. He went out fighting…fighting for _them_ , no less. But no, Cas was still dead and Dean was still in pieces.

 

He felt the lack of Cas’ grace like a hole in his existence. Where he’d always been, a constant thrum of energy in Dean’s very soul, there was an emptiness.

 

How could he pray for relief if the one he always prayed to was gone?

 

After the burning of the body, Dean got angry. He threw the mix-tape against a wall, (it didn’t matter; he knew that tracklist by heart), and threw himself into the hunt.

 

He was going to find that damn Nephilim, make that asshole tear a hole in space-time, get their mom back, and rip Lucifer apart himself, even if it killed him. Then, he was going to throttle the kid until he brought his angel back.

 

For Dean had lost a lot more than a friend; a brother in arms. He’d lost a chance to tell Cas _everything_. He’d been too stubborn to say it aloud. Instead, he made dumb mix-tapes to share with Cas because it felt right, sharing that part of his life with him. If he could share that part, who’s to say he couldn’t share the rest?

 

When he brought Cas back, he swore he would. He’d tell him. Before it was too late again.

 

Dean gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles as he sped off toward the west. “Hold on, buddy.” He spoke to the air. “I’m bringin’ you home.”


End file.
